D
ad and I were always close from riding motorbikes
together since I was around six or seven. He worked
seven days a week driving his concrete truck, so any
spare moment he had he would always do something
with us kids. My parents spilt up when I was around 11 but when
I was 15, I moved in full time with him. I was thinking about
dropping out of school at the end of year 10 but he wanted me to
finish school, so he made a deal with me; we would slowly fix up
the ’95 Hilux he had as a work ute for me when I get my license
if I finished school and got the apprenticeship I wanted.
We tidied it up over a year and a half for when I got my learners.
As soon as I got my license I wanted to drive everywhere and he
knew that so we shared the car for a few weeks until I think he’d had
enough of waiting for me to pick him up from work everyday. One
afternoon I pick him up early and he said he would drive. (I thought
I had messed up somehow.) I had no idea where we were going butafter a short drive, I realised when we pulled up at the shop that dad
was buying a Harley.
Now that I had the Hilux and he had the teal and pearl Fat Boy
Harley, things changed. I fell into the minitruck scene and went silly
on the Hilux. I shaved everything, painted it matt and satin two-
tone and lowered it till it was diff against chassis and just horrible to
drive. Dad on the other hand spent his time either cleaning or riding
his Harley. I bought another Hilux and fell deeper into the minitruck
world with air bags, body drops and anything else me and my mates
could come up with.
Dad started getting ill and got to the point where he couldn’t work
anymore. He had always spoken about hot rods but it was something
he never got to do. A few years had passed and by now I had destroyed
two Toyotas. Something I didn’t take notice of was all the different
car magazines showing up at home. I think all the time sitting at
home was killing him with boredom and gave dad time to plan his“
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